


The Story of Charlie White (Enby!Carrie)

by angelofvengeance



Category: Carrie (1976), Carrie (2002), Carrie (2013), Carrie - All Media Types, Carrie - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Tommy Ross, Multi, Nonbinary Carrie White, Nonbinary Character, Transgender Carrie White
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofvengeance/pseuds/angelofvengeance
Summary: Charlie White just wants to be normal. He wants friends. He wants a happy family. He wants a boyfriend. But he knows, deep down, that he isn't like everyone else. Not only is he struggling with his gender identity, but he has a gift - the gift of telekinesis. To be invited to the prom by Tommy Ross is a dream come true for Charlie - the first step towards social acceptance. But events will take a horrific and macabre turn as his dream becomes a nightmare, and he is forced to use his strange power on the town that mocks and loathes him.
Relationships: Tommy Ross/Carrie White, Tommy Ross/Original Character, Tommy Ross/Sue Snell, Tommy Ross/Trans Carrie
Kudos: 1





	The Story of Charlie White (Enby!Carrie)

**Author's Note:**

> Charlie uses he/they pronouns throughout the story. Tommy Ross is bisexual in the canon of this fic. There is also some transphobic/homophobic language coming from the antagonists, so content warning for that.

Found carved into a desk at Chamberlain Middle School:

"Roses are red,  
Violets are blue,  
Sugar is sweet,  
But Charlie White is a hermaphrodite."

The girls locker room in Chamberlain’s Ewen Consolidated High School seemed to scream as the sound of frolicking girls bounced and reverberated from the tiled walls. One by one, they stepped out of the shower compartment, towelling off and beginning to dress, occasionally glancing at the large clock above the door. Chris Hargensen, a slim, athletic girl with long blonde hair pranced over to Sue Snell, who was drying her wavy brown hair with a towel. Sue’s green eyes met with Chris’ blue eyes, which always seemed to sparkle with cryptic glee. “Has he asked you yet?” Chris asked giddily. Sue’s smile faltered.

“Not yet,” Sue sighed. Chris rolled her eyes. 

“Pathetic,” Chris scoffed. “Come with me and Billy.” Tina Blake, a petite girl with auburn red hair and hazel eyes, approached the two. She was wearing a red blouse with black velvet pants, along with a pair of brown sandal wedges. 

“What’s up?” Tina asked. Chris turned to her, linking arms with her other best friend.

“Tommy hasn’t asked Sue to the prom yet,” Chris declared. This got the attention of the nearby Nicki and Heather, who glanced at each other and giggled.

“He better!” Heather cried. She was another skinny girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes, but her freckle-speckled flesh distinguished her clearly from her classmate Chris. Beside her, Nicki was slipping into a pair of mom jeans, her light brown bob hanging over her face. Chris rolled her eyes. While Nicki and Heather were not on the level of the Mortimer Snerds, they certainly weren’t cool enough to butt into a conversation of hers. However, before she could chastise her lesser peers, she heard the locker room door burst open. 

Miss Desjardin, the girls first period gym teacher, stepped into the room. She craned her neck around briefly, glaring at the girls, before clapping her hands together once, smartly. “What are you all waiting for? Doomsday?” Miss Desjardin asked rhetorically. “Bell in five minutes.” Desjardin made an irritated cranking gesture to Chris and her friends before stepping out. 

Chris turned back to Sue, rolling her eyes. As she opened her mouth to speak, the door swung open once again. Chris groaned. “What the hell does Dyke Desjardin want now?” But when Chris turned, it was not Miss Desjardin standing in the doorway - it wasn’t a female at all. Charlie White stood in the doorway, stark nude, being pushed into a forming semi-circle by Billy Nolan, Jackie Talbot, Kenny Garson, Greg DeLois, and Henry Trennant. Chris gasped laughter as the other girls turned, showing varying levels of disgust and amusement.

Sue giggled and pointed as Charlie turned, his hands covering his most private area. She couldn’t help it. He just looked so dumb, standing there without any clothes, staring at all of them with his bovine blue eyes. She was dimly aware that Billy Nolan, Chris’s current boyfriend and the biggest (and slimiest) bully in Ewen High was throwing anything he could get his hands on at Charlie, who was practically twirling as he spun around in a circle, his eyes darting around the young men and women now surrounding him. 

“I caught the fucking freak staring at me in the shower,” Billy snarled. “This is what you get.” Chris marched over to Charlie and grabbed a fistful of his light brown hair.

“You were looking at my man’s junk?” Chris snarled.

“No!” Charlie cried. “I wasn’t, I swear!” Chris’s face reddened.

“And now you’re calling him a liar?” Chris slapped Charlie, who screamed and fell onto his knees. Billy was now throwing wads of toilet paper at the boy, who had curled into a fetal position on the tiled floor. The other boys had joined in on the attack, and various bathroom objects were quickly being handed out to the girls. Wads of toilet paper, underwear, and even baseballs were being thrown at the boy.

Sue was throwing things too - Chris had absent-mindedly handed her a pack of tampons, and she giggled madly as she tossed them onto Charlie’s naked body. “Why don’t you plug yourself up, girly-boy?” Chris giggled. “Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!” Chris pulled out her cell phone and began to record Charlie. The other girls started chanting along with Chris, and the boys joined in soon after. It was then that Sue’s conscience crept up on her. What could she be doing?

“Guys, stop…” Sue muttered. Before she could approach Charlie to help him up, the locker room door burst open and Miss Desjardin pushed her way through the crowd. 

“What are you boys doing in here?!” Miss Desjardin growled. “Get out!” The boys, still snickering, slipped out of the door. Desjardin marched over to Sue and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. “What are you doing?!” Desjardin shouted. Tears welled in Sue’s eyes. 

“I...I was just…” Desjardin shook her again, slamming her against a locker. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Desjardin stepped back. “Get out. All of you, get out!” The girls quickly flooded out of the room. Desjardin turned to Charlie, kneeling down beside him. “Charlie?” Desjardin whispered. “C’mon, you’re safe now.” Charlie looked up to Desjardin, his face wet and red from crying. He sat up, but quickly collapsed into Desjardin’s arms, weeping. 

“M-M-Miss D-D-Des-D-D-”

“Shh,” Desjardin shushed the boy. She stroked his wet hair. “They’re all gone. See?” Charlie looked around, relief washing over his face. Suddenly, the lightbulb above them blew out, causing Desjardin to yelp. It occurred to her that things like that always seemed to happen whenever Charlie was upset, like bad luck dogged his every step. The thought was gone as quickly as it came. Desjardin stood, and Charlie looked up at her with desperate eyes. “I’m just going to get you a towel,” Desjardin said.

*

Ten minutes later, Charlie was sat outside of Principal Morton’s office, his head down. Miss Desjardin had helped the hysterical boy to dry himself and get changed back into his plain white button-up shirt and black pants. Inside, Desjardin paced in front of Morton’s desk. “We have to do something about this, Morty,” Desjardin said, her voice shaky. “It’s getting out of control. That Billy Nolan boy…he’s dangerous.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Morton replied firmly. “He’s had seventy detentions administered in his four years here. Twenty by me. Zero attended.”

“Can’t we expel him?” Desjardin asked, hopeful. Morton shook his head. 

“It would only cause more trouble,” Morton sighed. “The bleeding hearts would accuse us of being, uh, elitist. Remember Donna Kellogg?” 

“How could I forget?” Desjardin chuckled. Miss Rachel Desjardin had been a first-year teacher when the Kellogg girl was expelled. Donna and her friend Chris Hargensen (the two were thicker than thieves) had put a firecracker in a girls shoe and blown her big toe off. It had been somewhat of a media frenzy for Chamberlain, and the Hargensen girl’s father had almost sued Mr. Morton. It had been settled out of court, and Kellogg had been sent to a private school in Rhode Island. Hargensen, however, stayed.

“And of course, that Hargensen girl is going around with Nolan,” Desjardin groaned. “God, he’s skuzzy. I know we’re supposed to be understanding, but…”

“I’m sure anyone with a social worker mindset would see Billy Nolan as an unfortunate victim,” Morton stated. “But my God, is he a piece of work.” Morton pulled a dismissal slip from his drawer. “I’ll take care of the boys. You take care of the girls, and feel free to send any of them to me if necessary.” Morton slammed his thumb in the drawer and grunted. He stood and gestured to his office door. “In the meantime, perhaps it’s best if, uh…”

“Charlie?”

“Yes, if Charlie goes home for the day.” 

“I’ll bring him in now,” Desjardin said, walking over to the door and pulling it open. Across from Charlie, Henry Trennant and Greg DeLois were whispering and giggling. Desjardin glared at them. 

“What are you two laughing at?” Desjardin growled.

“Him,” Greg pointed to Charlie, brazen as ever.

“Week’s detention!” Morton called from the office. Greg and Henry’s eyes widened. Desjardin bit her bottom lip to contain a smug grin, turning to Charlie and gesturing for him to follow. Miss Desjardin led Charlie into Morton’s office, giving Greg and Henry another dagger glare as she closed the door on them. Desjardin led Charlie to a chair across from Morton’s desk, where he sat beside Desjardin. Morton handed Charlie the yellow, coffee-stained dismissal slip.

“We thought it would be for the best if you went home for the rest of the day,” Morton said with a sympathetic tone in his voice. “We’re all very sorry about this, Carson.”

“It’s Charlie,” Charlie muttered. 

“I’d like to make it known that we’re aware of the bullying you’re facing,” Morton continued. “We don’t want you to feel as though you’re alone. We have a counselling service here in school, and we’re getting to the bottom of this. Rest assured that those...those brutes will be punished.”

“I want you to take study hall for the rest of the week, okay?” Desjardin said softly. “I’ve excused you from gym, so it won’t affect your grade.” Charlie kept his head down, not responding. 

“Once again, we’re all very sorry, Carson,” Morton said. 

“That’s not my name!” Charlie screamed. Suddenly, a book on the shelf behind Morton’s head toppled to the floor. Morton and Desjardin jumped, and Charlie stood up. He paused, looking down at Desjardin, his eyes shiny with welling tears. “They laughed at me. Threw things. Why do they always laugh at me?” A tear rolled down his acne-ridden face. Desjardin stared at him with helpless pity. He left.

Morton sighed, standing up and picking the book up from the floor, placing it back on the shelf and sitting down. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t know,” Desjardin sighed. “He’s a strange boy. Always has been, as long as I’ve worked here.”

“Try working here for as long as I have,” Morton laughed. “Charlie. He’s Margaret White’s son, right? That explains his, uh...strangeness.”

“I didn’t mean it in a nasty way,” Desjardin glared at Morton, who gulped. 

“Neither did I,” Morton said. “I just meant that, well, I can see why he’s so...skittish. Margaret White was before my time, and I thank the Lord for that. She was suspended twice while she was here. Once for hitting a fellow student with her bag for smoking a cigarette. Another time, she assaulted a teacher for giving a lecture about evolution.”

“Jesus,” Desjardin muttered in disbelief.

“Ironic choice of words,” Morton scoffed. “Religious nuts - real religious nuts - are not to be messed with. We’ll have to keep an eye on that. We can’t interfere with people’s beliefs, but we can sure as hell step in if that boy is being hurt at home.”

“Yes,” Desjardin agreed. “He gets enough abuse here.” Desjardin shook her head.

“Do you think it’s about time we bring in Greg and Henry for the interrogation?” Morton smirked. Desjardin grinned. 

“I’ll go get them,” Desjardin said as she stood and walked over to the door, swinging it open. Morton sat back in his chair, cracking his knuckles. As he told superintendent Mr. Grayle, he ate school bullies for lunch.

*  
Charlie crossed onto Carlin Street from Ewen Avenue, his head down, his arms crossed over his belly. He was trying to think of nothing, but he could not push away the dark thoughts that crept into his mind. "Imagine Billy Nolan covered in blood and screaming for mercy," Charlie thought. "Good, good. That would be good. Crash in his head with a rock, with a boulder. Crash in all their heads. Good, good…Jesus, saviour, meek and mild."

That was good for momma, alright for her. She didn’t have to go amongst the wolves every day, into a carnival of laughers and joke-tellers. And he had tried to fit. He had defied momma in a hundred little ways, yet a thousand jokes had been played on Ol’ Prayin’ Charlie. The pinches, the outstretched legs to trip him up, the peanut butter in his hair, the punches, the kicks, the pants being pulled down in crowded halls, the dirty images hidden in his notebooks for teachers to find and chastise him for. Oh, the horrors that little prank had rained down on him when it got back to momma…  
(momma coming home eyeglasses flashing i got a call from school today)

And didn’t momma say there would be a Judgement? And an angel with a sword? If only that Judgement were today, and Jesus returned not with a shepherd’s crook but with a flaming sword to burn the laughers and the jokers, to root out the evil and destroy it as it screamed and begged and wept - a terrible Jesus of blood and righteousness. And if only Charlie could be His sword, and His arm.

Aaron Erbter, a tense-looking eleven year old, rode onto Ewen Avenue on his silver bike. When he saw Charlie, his face lit up and he stuck out his tongue. “Creepy Charlie! Creepy Charlie!” Aaron screamed laughter. Charlie stopped, staring at Aaron with sudden smoking rage.  
(fall off that bike and split your rotten head)  
And suddenly Tommy was wobbling and he had fallen onto his side, crushing his right arm. He began to scream. Charlie smiled and walked on. If only he could make something like that happen whenever he wanted.  
(just did)  
He stopped again, staring at nothing. He wanted the kid to fall off his bike, and he did. And there was the light. And the book, don’t forget the book.

There were also the stones, but momma never talked about that. Charlie himself hardly remembered it. He had been a very small boy then. How old? Three? There had been the babysitter in the white dress with all the makeup, and momma had come home early to see her applying eyeshadow to the excited Charlie’s eyelids. And she had screamed and howled at the sky and forced the young lady out of her house and she had gone to grab daddy Ralph’s knife and came back, came back for Charlie  
(cut your eyes out of your skull you little devil)  
And something had...had flexed. That was not quite right, but it was very close. There was an enormous flexing sensation in his head and suddenly huge stones were crashing through the ceiling and into the living room, and daddy Ralph’s knife had flown right out of momma’s hand to slide into the far wall as though it were made of butter. 

That flexing sensation…it had never happened since. Stones did not come when Charlie was upset. A wellspring of emotions, oh yes. But nothing so...supernatural. Not until today. It was as though his child-self’s strange ability had gone into hiding, waiting for some kind of mental puberty to awaken from its slumber. 

Waiting, perhaps, for today.

Charlie continued walking up Carlin Street until he reached the small blue bungalow with rich green ivy crawling up the side, as though the hand of God was pulling it into the ground. That familiar love-hate-fear feeling began to stir in Charlie’s stomach as he opened the wooden gate and walked up to the front door. He reached for the door handle, stopped, and reached into the pocket of his blue raincoat. He pulled out a silver cross pendant and latched the chain around the back of his neck, taking a deep breath before he slowly creaked the unlocked door open.

Charlie stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He felt dread welling in his stomach as he stepped into the living room, where Margaret White was standing in front of a six foot tall plaster crucifix nailed to the wall. She was a large woman with wiry red hair and bulbous blue eyes magnified behind rimless glasses. She wore black from head to toe, always wearing long lace dresses, large hats, and black leather boots. Whenever she left the house she wore black leather gloves, even in Summer. As Charlie watched, she slipped off her gloves and gently placed them on a nearby shelf. She turned to face her son, her face blank and emotionless. “School called,” Margaret said. “You’ve had lustful thoughts.” Charlie’s face crumpled.

“I didn’t, I swear!” Charlie cried. “The other boys lied about me and dragged me into the girls locker room and-” Margaret had been walking towards Charlie, and now she was swinging her fist. It collided with Charlie’s right cheek, causing him to shriek and fall to his knees. 

“And God made Eve from the rib of Adam,” Margaret snarled. She kicked Charlie in the ribs, and he screamed. “Get up, Charles. Let us pray for your sin-sickly soul.”

“Momma!” Charlie wailed, turning and crawling away from his mother. He had a small cut on his cheek, and it was quickly welling with blood. Tears were rolling from his chin and dripping onto the carpeted floor. Margaret kicked his rear, sending him sprawling onto his front. Weeping harder, he pushed himself back onto his hands and knees and progressed to the altar in the corner of the room.

“This is your own fault,” Margaret said. “You strayed from the garden.” 

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Charlie screamed. Margaret knelt down, grabbed Charlie by his hair, and slammed his head into the wooden altar. He squealed as pain exploded in his nose. Dazed, he wiped a trickle of blood coming from his nostril and sniffled.  
(if i had a nickel for every time she made me cry here)

“I should have known,” Margaret cried, her expression a mix of despair and self-righteousness. “Your father’s sin has been visited upon you.”

“Momma, I swear...I didn’t do anything…” Margaret slapped Charlie. He whimpered, rubbing the place he had been hit. A red welt was forming. Margaret grasped his wrists roughly.

“Oh, Lord!” Margaret wailed at the ceiling. “Help this sinner here before me see the sin of his days and days. Show him that if he had remained pure and innocent, Your Judgement would never have been visited upon him. He may have been tempted by the antichrist. He may have listened to pop music on the radio. He may have had lustful thoughts-”

“No! Let me go!” Charlie cried, attempting to stand. Margaret pulled him back onto his knees.

“-Show him that this is Your kind, vengeful hand reminding him to remain on the straight and narrow to avoid eternal hellfire, for straight is the gate. Amen.”

“Momma, the other boys pushed me into the girls room. I tried to stop them, I swear. I would never try to look…” Charlie’s face turned crimson. “I didn’t sin, they sinned!”

“Don’t you lie to me, Charles,” Margaret exclaimed, tightening her grip on his wrists. “Don’t you know by now? I can see inside you. I can see the sin, just as sure as the Lord can.” Margaret let go of Charlie’s wrists and stood. “You want to be a woman, Charlie?” Margaret asked. “You want to sin like a woman does? Then you shall pray like a woman. Like the vile little sinner you are - in your closet.” Charlie’s eyes widened. 

“No.”

“Go to your closet. Pray in secret. Let your sins be washed away.”

“I’ll make the stones come again, momma.”

Margaret’s breath caught in her throat, as though on a thorn. Then, she bent down and began to throttle Charlie, who clutched her huge arms with fear in his eyes. “You spawn of the devil,” Margaret spat. “Why was I so cursed?” She squeezed harder, and Charlie saw spots float across his vision. “I should have known when I caught that Whore of Babylon putting the devil’s paint on you. A man shall not put on a woman’s cloak, for whoever does so is an abomination to God. Your soul must be cleansed.”

“Fuck you!” Charlie croaked. Margaret hissed as though she had been burned. 

“Sin!” Margaret screamed. “Oh, sin!” She pulled Charlie to his feet, dragging him towards the closet door.

“I hate you!” Charlie cried. Margaret swung open the closet door and threw Charlie inside. He reeled into the far wall and hit his head, falling onto his backside as Margaret slammed and locked the door behind him. He looked around. The closet walls were covered in terrifying religious imagery, and a stone statue of St. Sebastian glared down at him from the altar with wide, bulging eyes. Charlie crawled into the far corner of the closet, curling up into a ball as he wept into his knees. 

He was alone with momma’s angry God.

*  
Sue Snell sat in the back of Tommy Ross’s blue truck, his yellow varsity jacket pulled around her partially-clothed body. The two had just finished making love, and with all emotional guards down, remorse hit her like a wave. When Tommy turned back to her, his belt still unbuckled, she was crying. “Hey,” Tommy said, compassionate. “Oh, hey.”

“It’s not you,” Sue stated, wiping away tears. “It’s me. I did a really bad thing today. I was just thinking about it.”

“What?”

“Billy Nolan and his friends dragged Charlie White into the girls locker room today, after gym class. He’d been completely stripped. And everyone started to throw things and laugh at him. Chris Hargensen was filming everything.”

“You’re not responsible for what Chris does,” Tommy said.

“I know. But it was me too,” Sue replied. Tommy stared at her blankly. She turned away from him, ashamed. After a moment, he spoke.

“Wow. That doesn’t sound a bit like you,” Tommy said. “But I’m not surprised Billy was behind it. Thank God I don’t have gym class with him and his group. He’s creepy.”

“I don’t know how to make up for it, Tommy,” Sue whimpered. Tommy shuffled over to his girlfriend and clumsily wrapped an arm around her.

“I kicked a kid in the ribs once. Danny Patrick. He used to beat the shit out of me every day in seventh grade,” Tommy said. “One day, he picked on the wrong guy and got knocked out cold. Everyone freaked out and ran, because they thought he might be dead. I did too, but not before giving him a good kick in the ribs. Felt like shit afterwards.” Tommy looked at Sue. “Are you going to apologise to Charlie?” This caught her off guard.

“Did you apologise to Danny Patrick?” Sue asked, bewildered.

“No,” Tommy scoffed. “I had better things to do with my time than spend it in detention. Besides, I had a reason, even if it was a piss-poor reason. What has Charlie ever done to you?” 

Sue could not answer, because there was no answer to give. She had barely spoken a hundred words to Charlie in their twelve years of shared education, and about three-dozen of those had been spoken today. “Tommy, do you ever hate being so...well, popular?”

Tommy shrugged. “No, not really. I don’t think about that stuff too much. All that football stuff is just...well, stuff. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

This did not ease Sue’s fears. It made them worse. “I don’t like who I’m becoming, Tommy,” Sue sighed. Tommy pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. 

“Well, I like you just fine. I know you, Suze. You’re not a bad person, you screwed up. It happens. Just apologise to him.”

“You’re right,” Sue said. “I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

“Do you want to go to prom with me?” Tommy asked. Sue looked up at him, blinking.

“Yes,” Sue replied. She was unnerved at the empty feeling in her gut. It had not gone the way she had expected. She had been waiting for this moment since the beginning of Spring - so why was she not happier that it had come?

*

Charlie sat in the corner of the closet, flipping through a glossy fashion magazine. He had bought them at a corner store in Chamberlain town centre, and had stored them under a floorboard in the closet while momma had been at work. They were supposed to give him comfort while he was trapped in the damp, dark closet, but so far they had only made him feel insecure. The models in the magazines all looked so light and easy, with their long flowing dresses, their slim bodies, and their blemish-free skin. Of course, easy was one of momma’s pet words, and she knew how momma would describe such women if asked.

Charlie jumped at the sound of footsteps heading towards the living room. He quickly hid the magazine under the loose floorboard, putting it back in its place and kneeling in front of the altar, his hands clasped together. The closet door unlocked and swung open, and Charlie saw his mother standing in the doorway out of the corner of his eye. “Go to bed,” Margaret commanded. Charlie stood up and shuffled past his mother, who swung the closet door shut as he exited. 

There had been days when momma had locked him in the closet for twenty-four hours at a time. Once, he had fainted from the lack of food and the smell of his own waste. Yet this time, even after Charlie’s rebellion and use of the f-word, momma had let him out only seven hours later. Charlie paused, turning to face his mother, who was now sitting down at the sewing table in the living room. “Good night,  
(she was afraid i’d knock the closet door off its hinges)  
momma”  
(and i think i could i think i could yes i think i could)


End file.
